


Felt the Sky Resting on Our Hands

by LuciFern



Series: Lady L [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Desperate times call for desperate measures, F/M, POV Third Person Limited, Parental Fears, Parenthood, Slow Burn, accidental Cullen acquisition, apologies because this is going to be the SLOWEST of slow burns, not entirely a retelling of the game, tags to be added as applicable, threat of child harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-10-29 03:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17799998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciFern/pseuds/LuciFern
Summary: Lady Lysandra Trevelyan, formerly of Ostwick and Kirkwall Circles, wanted one thing in life. Freedom. After nearly four years on the run, she thought she'd found the chance in the Conclave. Instead, she's thrown into chaos, and must trust a man responsible for much of her suffering with the one thing he never should have known about: her son.





	1. The Wrath of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who oppose thee  
> Shall know the wrath of heaven.  
> Field and forest shall burn,  
> The seas shall rise and devour them,  
> The wind shall tear their nations  
> From the face of the earth,  
> Lightning shall rain down from the sky,  
> They shall cry out to their false gods,  
> And find silence.  
> \- Chant of Light, Andraste 7:19

The Chantry ceiling was both familiar and not to Lysandra, as she struggled out of the decidedly _un_ familiar bed, her legs weak and head spinning as she moved as quickly as she could toward the screaming. "Luca," she breathed, fear mixing with confusion as she tried to make sense of everything around her.

Two doors later, and the fear took precedence as she grabbed the screaming toddler from the arms of a man she’d have gladly never set eyes on again.

"What are you doing to him?!"

Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford looked as shocked as she felt, seeing him again. Dimly, she noted the two women watching her, wary and interested. "I-"

She interrupted him, shaking her head and checking her child, cradling him to her as she tried to calm her breaking heart when his cries intensified. "You keep your hands off of my son, Knight-Captain. You don’t _touch_ him! Shh, shh, sweeting, shh…"

One of the women nodded to the door Lysandra had come through before she had backed away from the Templar, child in tow, and he nodded in return. "Seeker, Sister Leliana… Lady Lysandra… I’ll reconnect with our forces in the valley." With a last glance at the sobbing boy, looking sad, as if Lysandra would ever believe it sincere, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Her attention on the women, Lysandra continued to hum to her son, desperate to ease his pain. "Luca, sweeting, where are you hurting?" When he presented his hand, she held back a curse at the gash, glowing a lurid green and pulsating. This was no normal injury, and she wasn’t stubborn enough to insist that the Templar had inflicted it; the mark was clearly magic, outside of his abilities, and she didn’t believe he’d be so cruel as to deliberately hurt a child - the child’s mother being a mage, or no.

"What-"

"The Conclave is destroyed, and everyone who attended is dead. Except for you. The Commander insists it was not your doing. I am not so inclined. Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you."

The darker of the women moved forward, a dangerous look in her eye.

"I… Everyone? You think I did this?"

"Explain this!" The woman gestured at Luca’s hand, held protectively against Lysandra’s chest as she worked at easing the pain. As if aware, the mark pulsed and the boy whimpered, worn out from the pain and too tired to continue the wails that had roused his mother.

Her gaze troubled, Lysandra chewed on her lip and shook her head slightly. Her voice barely a whisper, she answered, "I can’t."

The woman moved as if to strike her, her face twisted with grief and rage, when the other woman, face shielded by her hood, spoke. "Cassandra, enough. Whatever she knows, we need to know, too." Turning so that Lysandra could see more of her, she asked, gently, "What do you remember?"

"Not much. I remember going to the Temple, and then… I don’t. There was something chasing us, Luca was crying, and a woman? I think. I was trying to get to her."

"A woman?"

She shook her head, focusing on the spell she held over her son’s hand. "The next I remember is Luca screaming. What _did_ happen?"

The darker woman, Seeker Cassandra, answered, frustration and weariness in her tone. "It will be easier to show you. Come." She opened the door to the small chamber they’d been in, gesturing to leave. "Leliana, head to the forward camp. I will take her to the rift."

A nod from the hooded woman, and she left the others behind. Seeker Cassandra was next out of the room, Lysandra following, anxious to find answers yet dreading those answers all the same. If what they’d told her was true, the Conclave destroyed, she wouldn’t be safe anywhere. Unless they found the person responsible, society would blame mages, especially an apostate bold enough to travel with a child. No one would care that she would never cause her child this pain, magic was evil and should be eradicated, in their minds. Just as being born with the gift was seen as making her guilty of some sin, so, too, would she be guilty of destroying the last, best hope of saving the Circles - and by extension, society - as they knew it.

No, whomever this Commander was, they didn’t view _her_ as the threat. While she couldn’t account for that, she would cooperate until she was able to get Luca to safety. Seeker Cassandra led her outside, and if she hadn’t already exhausted her emotions, she’d have gasped. As it was, Lysandra hissed at the sight: a whirling green mass in the sky, as though someone had punched through the sky and the Veil, draining the Fade itself into reality. It pulsed, and the mark on Luca’s hand pulsed in response. She clutched him closer to her, offering a silent prayer to the Maker and his Bride that this wasn’t happening, the knowledge that no dream, no demon could conceive of such a thing undermining the sentiment.

"We call it the Breach."

Her attention turned to the woman with her, not bothering to attempt to hide the fear and dismay from her face.

"It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"What kind of explosion could cause such a thing?"

"I had hoped you might tell me, but I am coming to think Commander Cullen was correct in his belief in your innocence."

Lysandra had begun to move forward when the name caused her steps to falter. "Commander _Cullen_ believes a mage innocent?" Under her breath, she muttered, "I never thought to see the day."

Seeker Cassandra’s mouth turned down, but continued on her path. "So you do know him. I had suspected as much, but was not expecting such animosity."

Lysandra hesitated a moment, stating as diplomatically as possible, "I was in Kirkwall’s Circle, for a time."

Seeker Cassandra grunted her understanding, a curiosity in her face before another strong pulse from the Breach and the mark brought both women to another halt. Lysandra calmed her child as Seeker Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder. "Every time the Breach expands, so, too, does the mark. It is killing him. We believe it may be the key to stopping all of this, but we do not have much time."

"How much?"

The women moved faster, neither wanting to delay if it could save Luca. "We do not know, nor do we understand how the mark and the Breach are connected. I had hoped that you may provide insight, but alas." Seeker Cassandra moved ahead, signalling a guard near a large gate. "Open the gate!"

"At once, Seeker!"

Lysandra hesitated before leaving the eerily quiet settlement. "Seeker, is there a shawl or length of cloth I might use?" At the anxious confusion on the Seeker’s face, she explained, "I cannot carry him much farther. If I can tie him to me, I will be of more use to you."

Understanding, Seeker Cassandra found some near the gate and assisted in wrapping Luca to her. Child secured, the women continued at a faster pace, moving to a run as the sounds of fighting reached them. They were almost across another gated bridge when it fell, hit by a blast from the sky. Lysandra rolled, cradling Luca to her as she landed, her breath lost as she hit the ice below. By the time she’d recovered, Seeker Cassandra was already up and fighting a demon. She stayed back, unwilling to endanger Luca, until another demon crawled from the Fade in front of her. She cast a barrier while looking for anything to defend herself with, her eyes landing on an old staff.

She scrambled for it, one arm reaching it as she braced her son against her. She spun in time to avoid the demon’s sweeping arms, throwing spell after spell at it, cursing the weak staff before the demon was hurt enough to fall back into the Fade. She focused on Seeker Cassandra in time to see her finish off the one she faced off against, and leaned on the staff, catching her breath and checking her son.

"Drop…" The Seeker sighed and shook her head. "I cannot protect you, and I must remember you came willingly. Keep the staff, I do not doubt that there will be more demons as we get closer." Placing her sword back in it’s scabbard, she indicated the pale child. "He is… Is he alright?"

Lysandra shook her head, moving toward the path she could see leading back up the bank they’d been heading for when the bridge fell. "He is not, but I cannot do more for him right now." She glanced at the woman with her, and added, softly, "But thank you for your concern. It is more than I am used to."

She had barely finished speaking when a belt of bottles was thrust at her.

"Take these, you will need them. He… Luca, you said? He might benefit from one, as well."

"Thank you."

Cresting the next hill, they both swore, weapons drawn again as they joined the group already fighting more demons than Lysandra had ever seen at once. Between the women and the group already fighting, it didn’t take long to send the last back through the Veil. Before she could breathe, however, she felt a tugging as an elf she’d never seen before grabbed the glowing hand of her son and thrust it - and her, by extension - at the rift, smiling smugly at her as it shut.

Lysandra wondered briefly how he could look so pleased, with the sound of her son screaming in pain, heard so clearly over the sound of the blood rushing through her ears, before she reared back, slapping him as Luca was pulled from his grasp.

She pulled a healing potion from the belt Seeker Cassandra had given her, jostling Luca back to consciousness so she could get the draught in him without danger of choking. Looking up from her son, she pinned the elf with a glare more deadly than she’d leveled at Knight… At _Commander_ Cullen, even. "Do. NOT. Touch. My. Son."

Cassandra stood between them, surprised but not at Lysandra’s reaction, given all she’d seen of the mage, so far.

"My apologies. I merely sought to-"

"I don’t care. You DON’T touch my son."

The elf looked at Seeker Cassandra for support, but the Seeker shook her head at him, while another person came up alongside Lysandra.

"That’s rule number one, Chuckles, you don’t touch people’s kids without permission. Especially when the kid has some magic mark on their hand that shouldn’t be there." Lysandra looked at the speaker as Seeker Cassandra moved to speak with the troops remaining, recognition and disbelief warring as she saw a dwarf smile and wink at her, his tone diffusing the tension.

"Varric Tethras?" Lysandra looked around for any more familiar faces, but was only disappointed. Still, even one was more than there'd been, and she felt a slight weight lift from her shoulders.

"A fan? Here? I'm flattered."

She shook her head, readjusting the weight of her son on her hip. "No, I remember you from visits to the Gallows, though I don't blame you for not recognizing me."

His eyes widened a bit, surprised, but the smile never even flickered. "Ah. Not a Templar, I'm assuming?" He flicked a quick glance at where Seeker Cassandra stood with her back to them, before looking curiously at Luca.

"No." She smiled a small and weary but honest smile for the first time in a long time. 

The elf coughed from beside her, speaking in a conciliatory tone. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I apologize, again, for my eagerness to see if my hypothesis was correct. I had examined the child when you were brought back to Haven. It was my suggestion that the mark could close rifts. I should have spoken before acting."

Lysandra nodded, not entirely mollified, but accepting the peace offering for what it was. "Lady Lysandra Trevelyan, formerly of Kirkwall and Ostwick Circles." She tipped her chin at the child sleeping fitfully on her hip. "My son, Luca."

"No kidding?" Varrick peered at what he could see, nothing more than dark curls and pale skin.

Seeker Cassandra returned, looking troubled. "We must move on."

"Lead the way, Seeker," Varric smirked at her.

"Absolutely not! Varric, your help is appreciated, but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in charge anymore. You need me."

Lysandra stepped in before they could continue to fight. Clearly, she wasn’t the only person less than pleased by how they ended up here. She’d ask Varric later, she decided. "Please, Seeker. Varric and Bianca are rather well known." She offered a tired smile. "And as you no doubt realize, we’re not likely to face fewer demons ahead."

Turning to speak to the elf, Solas, she chewed her lip in indecision. "You… You said that Luca can close these rifts. How?"

He gestured for them to move on while he explained. "I am not certain of the mechanism, but the mark seems drawn to the rifts. I merely pointed his hand at the rift, and it closed."

Nodding her understanding, Lysandra followed Seeker Cassandra toward what she now realized was where the Temple of Sacred Ashes should be. They continued in silence for a bit before Varric spoke again.

"So, Lady, is what they’re saying true?"

"I couldn’t tell you. What _are_ they saying?"

It was Seeker Cassandra who answered. "They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid to waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

Lysandra hissed a curse. "Who… Who said this? And how much is hearsay?"

"Three of our soldiers were there when you came out. They contacted Commander Cullen, who brought you to Haven. Clearly," Seeker Cassandra didn’t bother hiding her disgust, "they didn’t keep it to themselves. You are in luck that he refused to put you in the cells; no doubt the slightest hint of you surviving due to anything but divine providence would have been proof enough of your guilt, for those not at the Temple."

"You still think I did this."

"I… do not. No. But it is not for me to determine."

They did not speak again until they reached the next gated bridge, and who waited there for them. The cleric arguing with Sister Leliana sounded like every other impotent bureaucrat Lysandra had ever heard, arguing as though he had any clue what was actually going on, or how to effectively handle it. He behaved as if he had authority over the hooded woman and, to Lysandra’s tired amusement, the Seeker with her.

She didn’t pay much attention to his raving, focusing on Luca’s labored breathing and the whimpers of pain coming more frequently. It was only as the Seeker called her name that she looked up, brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon. My attention was elsewhere."

Cassandra glanced at the child, before answering. "We have lost contact with a scouting party in the mountains, on one of the two paths to the Temple from here. I propose we search for them after dealing with the Breach, and charge in with the soldiers. I fear…"

Lysandra nodded. "I agree. He’s getting worse, and I won’t risk it. How soon can we do this?"

"Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone."

The cleric looked sour, sighing defeatedly. Lysandra recognized the feeling, that fear that all was already lost. "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."

\---

The Breach was massive, the Fade-like energy souring the air stronger here, and with it, the mark on Luca’s hand glowed stronger. It must have pulled more strongly, too, as her exhausted child whimpered as she made her way along the path. According to the Solas, they weren’t going to attempt to close the Breach, but rather the large rift she and Luca had come out of, directly below it. Her stomach had been in knots since they’d arrived at the ruins, met with Commander Cullen and his diminished forces battling yet more demons. It was all too much, and there was no sign of it getting easier.

Red lyrium crystals ringed the destruction, the song wrong in her veins as they tread carefully to avoid them. Hearing Varric’s worried comments to Seeker Cassandra only served to put Lysandra further on edge, and she feared she would snap before they even arrived at their goal. The booming voices of the Divine herself and who she could only assume was behind the explosion did nothing but add to the strain, and she clenched her jaw and held Luca in his wrapping even closer, humming into his hair for comfort.

Whether that comfort was for her, him, or the both of them, only the Maker knew.

They found the path ended in a drop that she could make only if she wasn’t carrying her son. She prayed for strength as Solas outlined what he believed needed doing, and it was almost a relief to hear someone point out that demons likely would be drawn to the change in the Veil, because she needed to work this anxiety out before she screamed.

She nearly did so, regardless, when presented with the options of accepting Commander Cullen’s assistance, or letting go of Luca. It was small comfort that the Commander was visibly uncomfortable lifting them down, but it was still a comfort.

The visions were worse than just the voices that had echoed before; if she’d witnessed the happenings as they suspected, she was just the smallest amount thankful to not remember, and much more so to have remembered how to channel magic from another person through herself from her time in the Circle. It was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless to spare Luca any more pain.

With a grunt and a stronger whimper, the rift she’d stumbled out of earlier that day ripped open, and this time, a pride demon stepped out. It turned out to be both easier and harder than the other fights she’d assisted with thus far, at least for her. The demon’s attention was drawn to the bevy of soldiers slashing at it, rather than her and Luca, however that was not the case for the lesser demons that had followed. Lysandra was shaking from the exertion of not only dodging swiping claws, but hitting what she could with magic while keeping Luca protected and channeling the energy from his hand through her to the rift from time to time.

Her vision dimmed the longer the fight went on, but pushing through, she attempted to seal the rift a final time. The strain was too much, however, and with a final, breathy moan, she fell. Unconscious, she never saw the rift snap shut, nor the worried faces surrounding her as they checked both she and her son for signs of life.


	2. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Andraste said to her followers: "You who stand before the gates,  
> You who have followed me into the heart of evil,  
> The fear of death is in your eyes; its hand is upon your throat.  
> Raise your voices to the heavens! Remember:  
> Not alone do we stand on the field of battle.  
> \- Chant of Light, Apotheosis 1:8

She knelt in prayer at the small altar to Andraste that stood to one side, now the Chantry was full of what supplies they had to be shared out. The small chapel was not meant for the scale of visitors it was currently seeing, and with the loss of most Chantry figures came a loss of faith. Although, that was growing again, due to a woman who had not woken in several days, yet Cassandra found herself faltering.

“Maferath took with him his Aegis, and arrived at the appointed place  
Where Hessarian waited with his guard, and the two leaders of armies spoke,  
Guarded in riddles, and came to an understanding between them  
That peace bore a heavy price which must be paid in blood.

And they returned to their own people, and said nothing."

Leather creaked as Cullen knelt beside her, silent as she finished the verse.

“Hardly the most comforting part of the Chant. I find Trials less likely to give hopelessness.”

“Hmmm. And if it is hopelessness I am feeling?” Shaking her head, Cassandra stood, dusting her knees. “What we have done, have we sent her to her death? Are we now Maferath, so caught in our own rights that we have missed seeing the harm we bring? The Breach is stable, but not closed, and it has been _days_ , yet she has not woken.”

They walked in silence, the dark of night closing in as they passed the cabin where even now, Luca and Lady Lysandra lay. Solas had not found any physical reason for their continued slumber, though he checked on them both during the day, and Varric watched them pass from his seat near the fire. 

“We are no closer to knowing how to proceed than before. Leliana suggested… You have heard what they are calling her, yes?”

Cullen inclined his head, steering them further away from the settlement. “I have. Better her than the child.”

“Tell me of her, Commander. She said she knew you in Kirkwall.”

Nugs ran as they approached, wandering in the snow. “I did not know her well, only enough to recognize her here. She had transferred to the Gallows maybe three years before… before the Chantry. She was already a Senior Enchanter by that time, and instructed the novices on shielding and focusing, if memory serves. She was not trouble, _that_ I do remember. The only instance I recall was after another of the Enchanters were to be made Tranquil, citing blood magic.

“Ser Weld suggested she should lose her tongue after she became rather… creative with her insults. The Knight-Commander almost agreed. In the end, the Rite was carried out, and the Lady Lysandra…”

Cassandra stopped when he did, watching him carefully. “She what?”

Cullen shook his head, continuing their walk. “She once more became a model mage, courteous if not cordial to the Templars.”

“And what of her son?”

“Seeker, you know the rules. If she were found pregnant, she would either be made to abort, or have the child taken at birth, a foundling for the Chantry. I have no knowledge of the boy before they fell from the Fade.”

\---

She was breaking her fast when one of the pilgrims, an elf working as an assistant to Adan, came running, frantically out of breath. The girl huffed and pointed, but could not get words out.

Cassandra sent a prayer that they were not already faced with another emergency, when the girl managed to gasp out, “She’s awake!”

Food forgotten, she hurried to the cabin to see for herself. Taking a moment to collect herself before she opened the door, Cassandra schooled her expression and entered. The door had barely closed when she let out a gasp and a quiet, “Thank the Maker!”

\---

Three days passed, discussing the Breach and the mark and everything, as Lady Lysandra regained her strength. On the third, Cassandra walked with her to the Chantry, attempting to further understand the woman beside her.

She and the child had been given one of the cabins in Haven proper, not that they apparently needed, as the Lady Lysandra had put it, so much space for just the two of them. It wasn’t a day before Varric - and Cassandra scoffed even at the memory - had moved from his tent to the bedroll now laid in the other half of the room. Apparently, the child liked the dwarf’s stories.

In the week since they’d brought woman and child back from the Breach, the boy was not seen out of the company of either his mother or the dwarf. He didn’t speak to anyone, either, but for whispers to the two of them. Cassandra did not have any particular interest in children, but she viewed it as odd. Odd was not concerning, however, and was preferable to what could have been.

Odd was also one word to describe the world around her these days. She spent her days with apostates, arguing with the Chantry, and planning to complete the last mission she’d been given by the late Divine. The Chantry… She uttered a disgusted sound as the Lady Lysandra sighed quietly beside her. They could hear Chancellor Roderick yelling from outside the Chantry hall, his voice coming from the far end where their destination lay. A loud slam came from one of the rooms before a hushed quiet fell.

Cassandra opened the door to the room to find Leliana bracing a hand on a book Cassandra had not dared touch since before the Conclave exploded.

“Do you know what this is?” The Left Hand stared inscrutably at the cleric. He stared at the book before looking up at the two women entering the room.

“Seeker! I demand that, that, _woman_ be taken to Val Royeaux to await trial!” He turned a glare to Lady Lysandra, who looked annoyed but not surprised.

Cassandra simply stared at him dispassionately. “On what grounds?” Without waiting for his response, she turned and pulled the door closed behind them, muffling any words to outside ears, and sharing a look with Leliana.

“I have heard of her actions at the Breach. She is a dangerous apostate. And to be the only survivor of the Conclave?” He scoffed. “That is no coincidence.”

“She is not the only survivor. Or has the child suddenly roaming Haven simply been beneath your notice, Chancellor?” Leliana’s overly sweet response brought a frown to Lady Lysandra’s face, but Cassandra was quick to move on. The Left Hand’s choice to use a child as a pawn would have to be addressed later.

“That,” she said, instead, touching the book on the table between the four of them, “is a writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Her quiet declaration was met with three very different reactions: smug approval from Leliana, who no doubt had been getting to that point when the other women had arrived; mild interest, if the raised eyebrow was anything to judge by, from Lady Lysandra; and disbelief, from Chancellor Roderick. She continued, having met each person’s eye. “We will close the Breach. We will find who is responsible.”

Leliana interrupted. “Yes, someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.”

Chancellor Roderick stood straight at the implication. “ _I_ am a suspect?”

With a quelling look at her counterpart, Cassandra spoke again. “You, and many others.”

The Chancellor was pale, though whether from fear or anger was difficult to judge. “But not _her_.”

She spared a glance at the woman she beside her, at her bandaged hand. “No, not her.” She did not bother to look at the man as he left the room in a huff, simply signalling one of the soldiers posted outside the room, before turning back to the other women. “The Divine’s directive is this: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against the chaos.”

Leliana let out a small sigh, her head tipped to hide her face. “Easier said than done. We aren’t ready; there’s a reason we had not yet declared our intentions, Cassandra. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.”

“We have no choice.” Turning to look at the third woman, she spoke almost gently. “With your help, my Lady, we must act now.”

A knock on the door frame announced the arrival of two more people, the last closing the door again.

“Allow me to introduce our Ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet. She was recently recruited to work with us, should the Conclave prove… Lengthy. And you already know our Commander of Forces.”

Lady Lysandra nodded politely to the newest woman. “A pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Montilyet.” She neglected to acknowledge the Commander, Cassandra noted. She also noted that he looked torn between relief and annoyance. Something else to address later, she decided.

“You said, ‘with my help.’ What assistance can I provide that you do not have covered, Seeker Cassandra?”

She fought a frown at the address; another of the Lady Trevelyan’s habits, besides pretending the Commander did not exist, was extreme formality. Both were equal parts amusing and irritating, and both had been met with the same small twist of her mouth - neither smile nor sneer - when asked about.

“It would be foolish to think that the only rifts caused by the Conclave were those we’ve seen near here. And yet, it is too dangerous for a child to go near them.” Cassandra took a quiet breath, knowing what she needed to say, and yet hating it. “You did something to stabilize the Breach. I saw it. You drew the power from your son’s hand and channeled it somehow through yourself.”

Lady Lysandra stood straight and still, her face paler than before, but no other sign of how she was taking Cassandra’s declaration.

“Is it possible to devise a way of doing that, from a distance? I would not want to risk Luca. There has been too much death, already, and I know there will be more, but if we could find a way… If someone else could bear that burden, shouldn’t they?” Cassandra hated the pleading tone in her own voice; now was not the time to waiver.

Commander Cullen cleared his throat. “It would protect him, if there is a way. Many of the people already believe you to bear the mark; the attention has already caused him distress. I admit I am not familiar with-”

“There is a way.” The declaration was quiet, and Lady Lysandra looked solely at Cassandra. “I will need a workspace and access to materials others may find… disturbing. An arcanist would be better suited to the task, but it seems unlikely that we could find one, let alone one that would help us.” She sighed and shook her head. “It can be done, that I know. I will draft a list of supplies needed and have it to you as quickly as I can.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

In her absence, Cassandra looked at the others gathered. Commander Cullen was watching the door, a faint frown the only sign of his mood. Leliana was watching the Commander as well, a speculative look in her eye that spelled nothin but trouble, and Lady Montilyet was frowning at the board in her hand, making notes.

Cassandra grunted, pulling all their attention back to her. “Lady Montilyet, what is your impression of our guest?”

The Ambassador blinked as she thought. “Her bearing; do we know anything about her background?”

Leliana nodded and Cassandra turned to the Commander. “She is Lady Lysandra Trevelyan, a Bann’s daughter if I recall correctly, and a mage. A powerful one. She was with the Kirkwall Circle for a while, although she… left… before the city went completely insane.” Cassandra noted that for later. He had not mentioned her departure from Kirkwall during their previous talk, although the Lady had said _for a time_ when questioned about the Commander.

Cullen continued, “She was in another of the Free Marches Circles before that-”

“Ostwick,” she supplied.

The Commander nodded. “I do not know what led her to move to Kirkwall.”

Leliana stated a question that Cassandra knew to be necessary, if only to be thorough. “I found records of such a person, but is it possible she’s lying?”

Lady Montilyet pursed her lips. “I have had dealings with the Trevelyans before; our families have long had trading agreements. If she is who she says, I can find out. If she’s not… Well. She’s either a skilled actress or another noble pretending to be her.”

Commander Cullen shook his head, but kept silent.

“Very well, I will leave it in your hands.” Turning her focus back on Cullen, Cassandra asked the other question she didn’t want to. “Commander, are we going to have a problem?”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “There is no issue on my end. She… Seeker, you know what I was like, before. She’s seen that first hand, quite probably worse than you realize. If ignoring me altogether is all she does, it is more than I deserve. I will maintain my distance. The last thing we need now is to be seen fighting amongst ourselves.”

“You told me, once, that this was a chance to atone.” He nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “What good is atonement if not done in front of those you’ve wronged?”

A knock interrupted them, and a soldier handed the Commander some papers. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Nodding at the women, he left the room, with a muttered, “To work.”

Closing the door again, Cassandra eyed Leliana. “Your thoughts? And don’t think I missed you throwing the child into the Chancellor’s range, earlier.”

“She is a mage, and the child views her as his mother. Those are the only truths we have, for now. I will leave addressing family ties to Josie; she’s better at that than I am, and I don’t doubt this woman’s ability to attack if she feels threatened. You saw how she reacted to seeing Cullen holding the boy, before.

“She, at the very least, cares for the child-”

“His name is Luca. He is not a pawn, Leliana. We are better than that. We have to be.” She sighed, leaning, her arms braced on the table. “I have spent the past few days talking to her. Her son is her weakness, yes, but also her strength. You saw how quickly she put herself in the middle of all of this, just to protect him.”

Leliana pursed her lips, but acknowledged the point.

“I will not put a child through that. This is not a negotiation, Leliana.”

“As you say.” Leliana looked thoughtfully at the door. “And what of Cullen?”

“I do not follow.” Cassandra frowned at her counterpart, but it was the unassuming Josephine who picked up the thread.

“He knows quite a lot for one who professes to know nothing. An interesting man, our Commander.”

Grunting, Cassandra stood straight, her arms crossing as she thought over the details he both had and hadn’t shared. “He was Knight-Commander Stannard’s second. The way Varric tells it, she had left almost all responsibility for the Circle on him, while giving up none of the command. Cullen told me what he knew of Lady Trevelyan, though he neglected to mention she was gone before he properly assumed command. You are thinking he is the child’s father?”

Leliana shook her head. “No. Not Cullen. Though, perhaps he is not as ignorant of the boy’s origins as he claims. While not common, neither is it exactly _un_ common for mages and templars to have relations.” She narrowed her eyes in thought.

“I am afraid we will simply have to wait and see how it unfolds. Now, I really must be going. The Duke du Reillions should be getting back to me soon, and now I must consider how to validate the Lady’s identity. If you will excuse me.” Smiling at them, Josephine left the room.

Leliana brushed past her, heading for the door, as well. “Remember, Cassandra, lines are well and good, but they are still meant to be crossed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I kind of hate Leliana right now. Also, big thanks to @sly_fck for looking over this chapter for me.


	3. At a Crossroads - Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A dog might slink back to the hand it has bitten  
> And be forgiven, but a slave never.  
> If you would live, and live without fear, you must fight."  
> \- Dissonant Verse, Shartan 9:7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on this posting a little late, I was working on the next chapter and got confused which one was supposed to post today! But here it is! Short, I know, but there's a reason for that. ;)

_N-_

_Arrived. H not as expected. Nervous habit tugging on glove._

_-LH_

\---

The first time Lace saw the Herald of Andraste, she could have been mistaken for just about any noble Lace had had the misfortune of dealing with: proud, and holding herself above others. The rough traveling clothes she wore was the first sign that she wasn’t exactly that. Oh, she carried herself well, but so did the Seeker. They were aware of their skills, and wore the confidence in them like a second skin. No, but it was _how_ she wore them. She didn’t twitch at them, didn’t behave like they were anything less than whatever finery she was used to wearing.

Lace liked that. Lace also liked the polite mask, asking about her as though Lace mattered. A little flattery never went amiss.

There was a steel in her eyes, and a well-hidden wild look that spoke volumes to Lace. Whoever she was before all this, whatever she had been through, however much she seemed to be all for the Inquisition, it wasn’t entirely willing. There was a desperation, there, one that Lace was _very_ familiar with; she saw it in the refugees down the road, and more pressingly, in some of the mages rebelling. Whether she gave into that desperation remained to be seen.

\---

_N-_

_XR secured. H ruthless but kind. I like her._

_-LH_

\---

_Sister Leliana-_

_Thank you for your aid, it was most timely. The Herald is just what we needed. Already, she has restored hope for many of those displaced by the fighting. I asked that she speak with the local militia leader, Corporal Vale. He has found himself in somewhat of a leadership position, and many of the people here have turned to him for help. It is my fervent hope that the Herald can bring more than simply hope, and bring solutions as well._

_-Mother Giselle_

\---

_Sister Leliana-_

_Even the greatest detractors must admit that it seems she truly does Andraste’s work. The people are fed, and warm, and their ills have been tended. I am soon to be arriving, Below is a list of those in the Chantry I believe may be swayed…_

_-Mother Giselle_

\---

Corporal Vale took the rare chance he had to watch the party the Inquisition had sent. For weeks, the fighting had been getting closer and closer, and he’d done what he could to keep the people there safe, but it hadn’t been enough. And then they’d come in and cleared the area out in only a few hours. Inquisition soldiers now patrolled alongside his own people, and that woman... Herald, they called her.

She’d asked what could be done to help, and then she went and did it. Killed some rams, found blankets, even went and got some special medicine one of the people needed. Wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty. He’d seen her passing out coin and anything she could spare, and he’d seen her playing with the children. Those whose parents didn’t shoo them away from the mage, that is.

So, she was a soft touch. Smart of the Inquisition to send someone like that out here. She was scary, too. Had been bloody terrifying clearing out those rebels, swinging her staff at any that got too close, and spells at those farther away. Magic is scary stuff, sure, but the look she gave some of them? He’d caught sight of her a few times while fighting, himself, and he was quite happy to be on the same side.

“-time with him, before we move on to Val Royeaux. Are you certain I must go, Seeker Cassandra?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It is you they are denouncing, as much as the Inquisition. You need not worry, Lady Lysandra, I will be accompanying you.”

The pair of women were close enough that he could see the hint of a smile on the Seeker’s face as they conversed. He could also see the fresh blood stains on their clothes.

“Corporal Vale!” He nodded acknowledgment to the Herald, and to the Seeker.

“Herald, Seeker. It seems you’ve been busy again.” He looked pointedly at a rather impressive splash of brown-red that spread across the both of them, almost as though they’d both been caught by a single spray of blood.

The Seeker made a disgusted sound. “Indeed. The last of the apostates have been cleared, as have the Templars.”

Corporal Vale knew he looked a right idiot, his brows high and his mouth slack, but… “All of them?”

“Yes, Corporal, all of them.” The Herald’s voice was softer, and he understood how people could believe she was Andraste’s chosen. If this woman could do all that they said… Even just doing what he’d seen her do, himself, he’d follow.

“Well, then. How can Vale’s Irregulars serve the Inquisition?”

\---

_Commander-_

_Recruits under the banner of Vale’s Irregulars heading your way. More will follow. Templars and apostates dealt with. Master Dennet has demands before sending any support. We have done what we can, though there is a matter of guards and watchtowers he is insisting on that I ask you to handle. Details will be given on return. Expect us in two days, and prepare escort for Val Royeaux._

_-Seeker Pentaghast_

_\---_

Cassandra watched as they sat around the fire, the apostate, the dwarf, and the Herald. It sounded like the start of a joke, even to her, and yet… She set aside her sword, and closed her eyes. Was this right? Was she, even now, doing Justinia’s will, or was she a heretic, as the Chantry has declared? There was so much blood shed, already. Nine ages of blood spilt in the name of the Maker and His Bride, would it ever be enough? The Maker had given His children free will, and turned His back on them. Was more killing really what He wanted?

The Inquisition was a chance to stop this senselessness. She had to believe that. She had to believe that it was worth it. That if, if there was no greater purpose, she was working to save lives.

Looking at Lady Lysandra, she had to believe it. The mage was not what she would have expected the Maker or His Bride to give them, but perhaps it was her own expectations that were the problem.

Noble born and raised, but a mage. Unable to hold titles, but her family never decried her. No, from Leliana’s reports, the Trevelyan family stood behind her. In Ostwick Circle, she was a well-regarded Senior Enchanter, until she was moved to Kirkwall. Even there, she was only noted for trouble once, for speaking out against the punishment of a fellow mage accused of blood magic. The punishment she faced for that was not recorded, and though Cassandra was curious, she did not wish to pry.

Lady Lysandra would be brilliant at the Game, if it weren’t for her son, and that was another mystery Leliana had not uncovered. Already, there was speculation at Haven about the quiet child. None, thank the Maker, about him being the true bearer of the mark; that was kept silent by those few who knew the truth. Varric was never one to tell the whole truth, she knew, and he had a soft spot for those he deemed innocent, and children, especially. Solas… Solas didn’t talk much to most people, keeping his own council unless directly asked. And the few Inquisition troops who were there when Luca closed that first rift were too weary from battle to realize that it was the child, not the mother, who had done so.

No, for all that she worked with them, Cassandra did not blame her for not truly trusting them. She was an escaped Circle mage who, Cassandra suspected, would gladly watch the Chantry burn. She had escaped, and had a child, both of which would see her killed if things had not changed, and even now, Cassandra was not fool enough to believe that there were not those who would carry out her sentence without hesitation.

Sighing softly to herself, she collected her sword and bid the others good night. Perhaps her dreams would help her make sense of it all, or perhaps she was simply overtired. Either way, only time would tell.


	4. The Threat Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maker, my enemies are abundant.  
> Many are those who rise up against me.  
> But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,  
> Should they set themselves against me.  
> \- Chant of Light, Trials 1:1

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The headaches were getting worse, and he knew this was just the beginning.

“Da?”

And then there was that. The child followed him everywhere, causing no end of trouble for himself and for Lady Montilyet, who the boy was supposed to be staying with while his mother was away. While Cullen had quickly taken to keeping an eye out after the child had wandered over to where he’d been training his troops, nothing he said could dissuade Luca from finding him wherever he was, no matter how dangerous it might be.

However, it was the name that posed a bigger problem for Cullen. “Yes, Luca?”

Luca shifted where he sat on the map table, the notes from Seeker Cassandra scattered on the other end, and scooted closer to where Cullen stood stooped over it, his hands reaching to pat at Cullen’s cheeks. “Ow? No ow. Nap?”

And with that, Luca had decided for them, and moved to climb off the table. “Not so fast, pup.” He silently berated himself for the slip, and grabbed the boy before he could do more than shift his bottom, setting him on safely on the floor, before gathering the correspondence and shooing Luca from the room.

Lady Montilyet met them in the hall, looking harried as she exited her office, and then embarrassed as she saw them. “Ser Luca! There you are! What have I told you about running off? Your mother would be most displeased if she found out-”

“It’s quite alright, Luca has been keeping me company while I review some reports.” Cullen looked down at Luca, now trying valiantly to hide from the Ambassador behind his legs. “Lady Montilyet is correct. Your mother would be quite disappointed to hear you’ve been hiding from the person she entrusted you to. Go on, get your nap.”

Luca shook his head and gripped the back of Cullen’s legs tighter, and he bit back a groan of frustration. “Luca.” Turning to face him, Cullen knelt down carefully, cursing mentally once again that the child had decided that of all the people in Haven, Cullen was the best to be around. “Your mother will be back soon. You wouldn’t want to upset her by not being where she expects you to be, would you?”

Luca glanced between Cullen and Lady Montilyet, and shook his head, and Cullen wished the child would simply _speak_. But he was only a child, and was surrounded by strange people, separated from his mother for the first time. He had to remind himself of that at times.

“Then off you go.” Standing back up, he patted the boy on his head and headed for the Chantry doors. He had almost reached them when he heard the shouting, and he did, finally, let out a groan as he broke into a run, his duties never done.

The Templars and mages were easily dealt with, with as much practice as he had doing so, but Chancellor Roderick was not. The man was a walking headache all his own, and Cullen idly wondered if the man had joined the Chantry simply to hear himself speak.

“I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its so-called Herald, will restore order as you’ve promised.”

From his peripheral, Cullen saw Luca running past, laughing. The momentary twitch to catch the boy was all the opening the Chancellor needed to invade his space, trying to show his importance. Cullen frowned at the man as he saw Lady Lysandra come towards him, chatting animatedly with her son. The very last thing he needed right now was any sign that the Inquisition was divided, more than the squabbling he’d already broken up.

Fortune seemed to favor him, though, as their “Herald” settled the boy against her shoulder, and approached, looking as exhausted as he felt. Which, if the Seeker’s reports were anything to go by, she likely was.

“Problem, Commander?” Although she addressed him, she kept her eyes on the Chancellor. Luca, thank the Maker, seemed to be asleep already, so he’d dodged that arrow for now.

“Not at all, my Lady. We’ve had a few arguments, as can be expected, but our biggest problem at the moment is outside influences speaking with trumped-up authority seeking to undermine our goals. I suppose if the Chantry has no solution, they cannot abide anyone else having one.”

He thought he perhaps out to have held his tongue, given the appraising look she gave him, but he was honestly too tired to be politic. There was a reason they’d recruited him for his leadership, rather than his diplomacy, and anyone who’d dealt with him in Kirkwall would be well aware of why. Instead, she nodded to him and passed by, calling a soft, “Do recall by whose grace you remain here, Chancellor. Take care not to overstay your welcome.”

The warning was clear, and Cullen continued to stare the man down, until eventually, the Chancellor turned and stormed off. Cullen stood there for a few moments more before shaking his head at, well, everything, and moving on to find Seeker Cassandra. They had a trip to Val Royeaux to plan.

\---

Sera crept along the roofs, watching the new arrivals. Word was, one of them glowed. Word was, they were trying to help. One of her friends in Redcliffe said the Herald-y one put the what-to to the Templars throwing their fit out that way, _and_ squashed the mages killing all killy-willy. It was enough for Sera to keep an eye on them while they were in her town. So she did.

She watched as the scary one spoke with some sneaky spy-type before taking the fancy one further into the district. Nobhead noble. She’d recognize the type anywhere. Already, Sera was less impressed. With the way the Chantry biddies got their girters in a twist, she’d have thought it was something really out there that they were claiming was the almighty Herald of Andraste. Something _exciting_ , like a… like a dwarf! Or one of those big qunari things. Void, even an elf, or better! An elfy elf would have been more of a shocker than some noble pissbucket.

Rolling her eyes, Sera crawled over the roof rounding the promenade, watching the scary one lead the way into the crowd gathered to hear the Revered Mother. Sera snorted. More like rear-end Mother. The way she was going on about it all, it was like she expected everyone to just forget that it was the Chantry did nothing to stop all this. Least this Inquizzy thing was _doin’_ something-like.

She winced as the Mother was coldcocked. Heh, that was a good one. ‘Cause he was a cock. She’d have to remember that one. Right, Chantry: doing piss-all. Templars: punchin’ old ladies. Mages: bunch of creepy weirdos. Inquisition: oh, look at that. While the scary one got all in Ser Whozit’s face, yep, there’s the glow. Glowy-nobly went and helped the Mother up. Didn’t make her go kaboom or nothing, just helped her sit and… Sera squinted, looking carefully at the little stage, and crept around to see better.

Yeah, the Herald-y one tryin’ to give the Mother a potion. Huh. She talked some more while the scary one gave up, and, yeah. Li’l bit of a temper there, under all that protocol ‘n’ shite. Mind made up, Sera was reaching for an arrow when people started screaming. She stood from her crouch, and saw the sky split, before all hell broke loose.

\---

“And you are resolute, then? There is noth- AH!”

“Herald!” Lysandra fell back as she tried to stand, desperately grasping at her left wrist, when Cassandra rushed over. “A rift, here? Now?”

It burned. It hadn’t burned before. She prayed it didn’t burn for Luca; she could endure, for him. Getting a hold of herself, Lysandra accepted the hand up. “Yes, Seeker, it would appear so.” She turned to Mother Hevara and the other waiting Chantry members. “Go! Now!” That done, she turned her attention to the growing tear across the bazaar.

“Stay back, Herald. You do not have-”

Exasperated and in pain, Lysandra shook her head and continued to the rift. “Seeker, if you think I’m not a threat, simply because I do not have a staff, I question your sanity. The staff is merely a focus, and not,” she grunted as she ducked the swinging arm of a terror demon, throwing a barrier over herself and Cassandra at once, before locating the other Inquisition support they came with and shielding them, too, “the source.”

The battle was brief, the rift small and only spewed a few demons before she could close it. Still, she wished Varric or even Solas had come with them. The soldier accompanying her and Seeker Cassandra kept getting in the Seeker’s way, though the archer seemed to be everywhere at once, shooting high and low. Taking slow, measured breaths to calm her heart, Lysandra shook out her hand once the rift was closed.

\---

Several days’ ride away, Cullen stood at the edge of the training field, shadowed by not one, but two small figures. He stooped to pick Luca up and held his small hand as he whimpered in pain. Varric watched all this, silent, for once, as Cullen gently rubbed around the gem glowing brightly in the center of Luca’s palm, humming softly between calling out drills and corrections. Neither man said a word as the boy turned his face to Cullen’s collar and began to cry in earnest. Later that evening, after Luca was asleep, Varric found Cullen again. “So. That happen often?”

Cullen eyed the dwarf over the papers he held, candlelight flickering and making his headache pulse behind his eyes. He sighed and set the papers down. “Which part?”

“Let’s start with the name. The Lady won’t take that well.” Varric grinned crookedly at him. “She kind of hates you. Reminds me of Hawke.”

Cullen scowled. “I’m aware, thank you, Varric.” Rubbing his temples, he sat on one of the small stools shoved into his tent. “She has ample reason.”

“Way I see it, Curly? You’re moving on. Maybe so should she.”

He eyed the dwarf. “And you would suggest doing so to her?”

Wincing, Varric waved it away. “Yeah, okay, point. Didn’t work for Blondie, and I knew him years longer. So, how to keep you alive…”

Cullen laughed, as he knew he was supposed to, and shifted to get more comfortable. The reports could wait.

\---

“Fuck! Shite! Pisshole demons! Yeah! Arrow for you, arrow for you, and… Really?” Sera stopped her litany of insults and curses as the last of the demons collapsed in on themselves, though she kept her bow at the ready just in case, and quickly reevaluated the situation. Chantry: doing nothing. Templars: punching old biddies. Mages: weirdos. Herald: noble mage who helps old ladies and is scary good at frying demons, and works with at least one Templar-type and probably more.

The world was confusing enough when it could be sorted neatly. It was demons-spewing-into-cities bizarro when it couldn’t. The only real question Sera had, as she watched the glow close the hole the demons came from, is which way was more likely to help. Sighing in frustration, she knocked a final arrow, took aim, and shot.

\---

The tingling was removed from all but her fingers, and she continued to flex her hand until even that was gone. Silence reigned as the citizens of Val Royeaux slowly peeked from shops and homes, though it didn’t last as the city erupted in talk. So much talk, and none of it useful. Sharing a look with Seeker Cassandra, the other woman grunted and sheathed her sword.

“I suppose we will find nothing, now.”

“No, I suppose you are correct.” Sighing and shaking her head, Lysandra shook her clothes back in order. “It really is a pity. The-”

For the second time that day, Lysandra found herself falling backwards, though this time, an arm stopped her descent. Regaining her feet, she looked at Cassandra and found the woman with her sword drawn once again, scanning the ring of buildings around them. “Seeker?”

“Someone shot at you.”

And, indeed, right where her feet would be was an arrow. Lysandra frowned. “I don’t think they were aiming at me.”

Cassandra glanced at her quickly, frowning as well. “What do you mean?”

Retrieving the scrap of paper, she read it with a perplexed expression. “I think someone wants to help us?”

“What?” It was more a statement than a question, but Lysandra handed her the note. “This is nonsense!” Lysandra looked at her, unimpressed. “No. You cannot be… Do not tell me you are considering this!”

“Someone with enough skill to hide from both you, and from Leliana’s people,” Lysandra tilted her head toward the scout with them, just returning from a quick hunt, themself, “shot at us with remarkable precision. I strongly suspect they helped with the rift, as well. And they tell us that not only is there someone who is working against the Inquisition, but they can lead us there, and all we need do is find a few clues hidden in the city.”

“No. I cannot allow-”

“Seeker… Cassandra. We came here hoping to find allies and support, yes? The Chantry was a dead end, the Templars have all gone mad, and we still have no word on the mages.”

A cough sounded behind her, and Lysandra turned to see the Templar from earlier, the one who had wished to help Mother Hevara, hiding beneath a cloak. She shared a wary glance with Seeker Cassandra, and wished she were not surrounded by people who could make her powerless with very little effort. Even if she didn’t believe that the Seeker actually _would_.

“Begging your pardon, Seeker, Herald, but not all of us.”

“Explain.” Seeker Cassandra still had her sword out, and adjusted her grip.

“Peace, Seeker, I mean no harm. I am Ser Delrin Barris.”

“That does not mean you mean well, Ser Barris.” Maker take her, but nothing about this felt right. It was enough dealing with the Templars in Haven and the Commander!

The Templar eyed her calmly. “You fought the demons, and closed the tear. That is enough, for me, to hear more about this Inquisition.”

“The Commander will be so pleased.” Lysandra bit her tongue at the Seeker’s amused snort, and focused on the tasks at hand. And at the woman watching from the shadows, beyond Ser Barris. “Ser Barris, if you wish to know more, you can talk to any number of people in the Hinterlands of Fereldan. Or, you could reach out to the Commander of the Inquisitions forces, Ser Cullen Rutherford.” At that, the Templar’s eyes widened, and he looked more appraisingly at herself and Seeker Cassandra.

“I will take that under advisement, Herald. Unfortunately, I cannot delay any longer. I shall be in touch.” And he turned, blending quickly into the crowd that once again filled the bazaar.

Conflicted, Lysandra said to Cassandra, “Do you think we could teach our Templars to move that quietly?” Three quiet snorts were all the response she received. Sighing, she fingered the note and eyed the woman in the shadows again. “We should follow up on this. Scout Jennings, search the market. Ser Travis, the docks. Look for something red.”

Two salutes and a few seconds later, she was alone with Seeker Cassandra, and the woman in the shadows was still watching. Turns out, giving orders wasn’t all that different that instructing novices. “Come, Seeker, why don’t we go for a bite?”

Still grumbling about wastes of time, Cassandra followed her as she wendt her way toward the cafe, the woman matching them. Just before the cafe, Lysandra looked at Cassandra. Eyebrow raised, head tilted toward the cafe, the Seeker narrowed her eyes and huffed. “If she tries anything, freeze her in place.” That said, she turned and left to find what these _friends of Red Jenny_ sent them for.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

“Herald of Andraste.”

The two women watched each other carefully for a heartbeat, two. “You weren’t at the Conclave.”

“No. I feared it might be a trap.”

Humming, Lysandra idly looked toward Cassandra. “You might not have been wrong, but not for the reasons you thought.”

“I should not be here. Might I request a meeting in Redcliffe?”

Smiling slightly, Lysandra watched the Seeker push her way through the crowd toward them. “I believe I can arrange that.”

“Then I shall see you there, Herald.”

The Grand Enchanter was gone by the time Seeker Cassandra rejoined her.

\---

“Squishy one, but you heard me, right? ‘Just say _what_.’ Rich tits always try for more than they deserve.” The elf gave Lysandra a once over. “No offense, yeah? ‘Blah, blah, blah, obey me! Arrow in my face!’” Sneering at the body, she kicked him once. “I mean, it’s all good, innit? The important thing is, you glow. You’re that Herald thing.”

She stood there, looking expectantly at Lysandra, who, honestly, was tired. “Look, whoever you are-”

“Name’s Sera.”

“...Sera. Okay. You...left the notes, right?”

“What, after the demons? Yeah, course.”

“Right. You said you wanted to...help?” Lysandra was assuming that’s what their strange new elven friend wanted. She wasn’t shooting arrows at them, after all. The elf, Sera, made a scrunched up face before nodding her head side to side, whether in agreement or not Lysandra couldn’t tell. “That’s what- Piss! Shite! Reinforcements comin’ in, gotta hide.”

Swearing, Lysandra ducked behind Seeker Cassandra as, just as Sera had said, more people swarmed the courtyard. The last was taken care of a short time later, and Lysandra was ready to leave. Leave the courtyard, leave Val Royeaux, she’d take either option at this point.

“So, me ‘n’ my friends, we want to help. Way I see it is, you’re the only one actually _doin’_ anything. And you ain’t workin’ alone, a mage workin’ with Templar-types like Ser Serious here.”

Cassandra glowered at the nickname, though Lysandra thought it rather apt. However… “Templar-type?” Her head was beginning to ache, and this conversation seemed to be going nowhere.

“She’s got the eye an’ the sword, ain’t she? She talked with Lord Stuffed-head while you were playin’ nice with the old biddie.” Sera shifted under several appraising looks.

Lysandra waved away that thread of conversation. There was a point, they simply had to get to it. “So, Sera, what could you and your friends offer the Inquisition? Spies? Noble allies?” At Sera’s scoff, Lysandra let a small smile play on her lips. “I’ll take that as a no. Soldiers?”

“Look, I’m not all knifey-shivdark like your friend here, but me an’ the friends? We’re people. People-people, not the kind who get noticed, but the kind who get stomped on. We spread the word, get you in good with the People before you get too big to like. Maybe we’ll get some news or what have you, word like led here, yeah?”

“Ah. Popular support. That was on the list, I believe. Have you ever heard of this Corypheus, Sera?”

“No?” She looked confused to even be asked, but shrugged it off. “So, am I in or not?”

Lysandra looked to Seeker Cassandra, who looked much as she did when having to deal with Varric. Turning back to Sera, she held out her hand. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Sera.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making minor edits.
> 
> Also, fun fact: if you wait to recruit Sera until after you get to Skyhold, the dumbass you fight states he’s working for Corypheus. So, while technically, he wouldn’t name him at this time, I like the idea that they’d have a name long before they have a reference for it.


	5. The Champions of the Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blessed are they who stand before  
> The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
> Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.  
> \- Benedictions 4:10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some expansion on the previous version, now with more Alistair!

There was little fanfare as they returned to Haven. Scout Jennings melted away before they arrived, no doubt to deliver her report early to Sister Leliana. Ser Travis rejoined the meager troops, which looked… a little less meager than they had. Corporal Vale must have sent more recruits while she was away, and these at least looked like they knew which end of a sword to hold. The Commander must be thrilled.

Lysandra paused in the song she was humming, mildly disturbed at the thought. She kissed Luca’s temple in response to his quiet, “Mama?” and resumed the tune while her mind continued to sort through things before she was expected to meet with the others.

It had become custom to meet in the little room at the end of the Chantry hall in the evenings, Lysandra had learned. It made sense, and reduced how often they were interrupted by the various duties. It also meant that Lysandra was expected to attend. She was taking down her hair when the knock came the first night, and she had opened the door to find Seeker Cassandra had stood there, looking almost apologetic.

Tonight, the knock came while she was assisting Luca into bed.

“Go on, Lady. I’ve got the runt.”

“Varric, really, you don’t have to-”

“Really, I’ve got this. Go on, be important, don’t forget us little people.”

Lysandra looked at him, amused. “Is that a dwarf joke, or have you spent so much time with our new friend already?”

Varric grinned as he settled onto the chair by the bed, book in hand, and winked. “I guess we’ll never know.” The knock sounded again, firmer.

Lysandra sighed, grabbing her cloak, and left for the meeting.

She and Seeker Cassandra walked in silence, and Lysandra let her mind continue to try to make sense of the past day. Sister Leliana had already heard of their troubles in Val Royeaux through her spies in the city, of course, and the Commander was angry over the Templar’s actions. Lady Montilyet was the only one who saw a positive in it, that they now had a way to approach either the Templars or the mages. In all, though, they were no closer to a decision.

Together, she and Seeker Cassandra entered the room to find everyone else already gathered, looking at something on the table.

“I received a letter today, from a Ser Delrin Barris. He wrote that the Herald suggested he reach out to me.” The confusion was clear in Commander Cullen’s voice.

“I received a letter, as well.” Leliana placed another sheet on the table. “King Alistair wrote of a group of Templars who have sought sanctuary in Denerim. He says they’re led by a Ser Barris.”

Lysandra looked at the notes, eyes narrowed in thought. “Yes, Ser Barris approached us in Val Royeaux.” She looked at Cassandra, who nodded in confirmation.

“He came to us after the rift. He said he wished to know more of the Inquisition.”

“Yet Alistair writes that Ser Barris does not trust Lord Seeker Lucius, and that he is not alone. It seems he and the others with him wish to join us. Perhaps the Lord Seeker’s behavior has become more suspect.” Sister Leliana looked up at the Commander. “Cullen, did he say more?”

“Not much. He mentions an old stronghold, Therinfal Redoubt, but not the purpose for their meeting there.”

Leliana hummed, her fingers idly stroking the page of her own letter. “Alistair asks if we can take them in. Do we still have the room?”

The Commander thought on it, before nodding slowly. “I believe so. Do we have word on how many there are?”

“Not more than a dozen.” She hesitated, before saying, “I’m sorry.”

The Commander nodded, looking troubled, before moving the letters aside. “And what of Redcliffe?”

“Cassandra and the Herald will still attend. We cannot take the risk of not having enough support for the Breach.”

“And when more fights break out? There have already been several between what Templars and mages we have.” Four pairs of eyes turned to her, as Lysandra spoke up.

Lady Montilyet scratched something on her board, her eyes distant as Lysandra looked at her. “Knight-Captain Rylen mentioned much the same. Might it help if you speak to them?”

“Rylen has complained to you?”

“No, Commander, he merely mentioned it as we shared a meal. He felt, and I believe he may have a point, that if Lady Lysandra were to speak with the Templars, to show she does not hate them all, it may work to soothe any ruffled feathers.”

Several glances were thrown her way, but Lysandra did not outwardly react. Instead, she asked, “As the Herald of Andraste?” At Lady Montilyet’s nod, she stifled a tired sigh, and agreed. “Of course. And I suppose I should do the same for the mages?”

“For some of them, perhaps,” Sister Leliana cut in. “But it may be more beneficial if you sympathize. You left the Circles before the vote, yet you attended the Conclave. Use that.”

“I will take that under advisement. Is there anything else needed of me?”

Seeker Cassandra clasped her shoulder, the one who knew best how she hated being away from Luca. “We can spare but a few days, I am sorry.”

Lysandra closed her eyes, forcing down the urge to scream. It was all for Luca, she reminded herself. Without closing the Breach, there was no future for him, no freedom. Nodding, she stepped back from the table. “Then I shall take my leave. Seeker, we shall speak tomorrow.” Looking at the rest of the group, she bid them goodnight and left.

\---

It was by necessity a small party that traveled the road toward Denerim. Cullen felt bare without his armor, but Leliana had stressed the need to keep this quiet. Cassandra had written shortly after Lady Lysandra’s party had arrived at Redcliffe that the situation was not what they were expecting; a Tevinter Magister, enslaved mages, and time magic were only part of the problems they were facing there. He had left on his task, and Leliana had departed with a group of scouts to coordinate with Cassandra and the others.

The days between Lysandra leaving and his own departure had seen a new shadow following his every move. He’d been discomfited by the brash nature of the elf girl, but she’d insisted she was just keeping an eye on “the Half-pint” when asked about it. Rylen had thought it great fun to tease him of his growing fan club. But then came time for him to leave.

Leaving had been harder than he’d anticipated. Luca refused to have anything to do with the horse, and so stood crying in Sera’s arms as he’d prepared to depart. It was eerily reminiscent of the first time Lady Lysandra had departed, leaving Luca with Lady Montilyet, an idea that had not settled well with Cullen. He shook off such thoughts. They helped no one. He urged his horse forward in their pack, riding up alongside the scout.

“Not much further, Ser. Should reach there by sundown.”

And they did. The sun was just setting when they left the road for a small trail into the woods, moving single-file toward the faint glow of campfires. They arrival was as quiet as their travel had been, and Cullen took the chance to see what they were getting. There were, surprisingly, quite a few more than the dozen or so Templars he was told to expect, though threefold was still far from the numbers the Order had commanded.

“Aha! There he is!”

Cullen’s wandering gaze was brought up short by the greeting, instead focusing on a man who seemed to have changed little over the years, a far contrast, he felt, to himself. “Your Ma-”

“Nope, none of that! Too much history and all that. Safe travels?”

How King Alistair managed to be so energetic, Cullen would never understand. “As safe as can be. We encountered little enough travelers on our way. Most of the issues seem to be further south.”

Alistair’s expression darkened, and Cullen wondered just what he’d heard. “Yes. I’m on my way to Redcliffe, myself.” He shook his head, expression brightening again. “But enough of that! Come, tell me all about this Herald. I’ve heard such different things, it’s all so mysterious!”

He grinned mischievously, and Cullen was suddenly reminded of the brash recruit who once found himself in the dining hall wearing nothing but his knickers. It was quite different from the man he’d seen during the Blight.

“Mysterious, really? Then what are they saying? I haven’t heard much, being in Haven.”

Alistair waved a hand carelessly, saying, “There’s the mundane, of course, that she’s a mage. The intriguing, that she’s no mage at all, and instead an Orlesian bard, or that she’s both mage _and_ bard. And then there’s the outlandish; did you know there are those who insist that she somehow turned the Divine into a child, and pulled the child out of the Fade with her.”

Cullen shook his head. “That is… I don’t even know where to begin, honestly.”

“Well, who is she?”

“She’s actually a former Senior Enchanter from Kirkwall.”

“You knew her?”

Cullen nodded. “I did. Lady Lysandra is no bard; from the field reports, she’s ruthless in battle, but if she were inclined toward quiet deaths I fear I’d have died at the Conclave.”

“Why-” Alistair looked confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh!” He coughed awkwardly, before soldiering on. “Right. Then what about the child rumor? Some Orlesian primp kept insisting that he’d seen the child Justinia himself.”

It was Cullen’s turn to feel awkward. “Well, that one is a little more complicated, and yet also less. There is a child, but he is Lady Lysandra’s son. He came out of the Fade with her, after the Conclave.”

Alistair stared at him, dumbfounded. “You- She- How does she have a child?”

“The usual way, I would assume.”

There was a beat of silence, then two. “Oh, ha ha,” but any sting that may have held was erased by the actual laughter that followed. “It’s good to see you like this.”

“It… feels good to be like this. It doesn’t happen often.”

They shared the rest of the evening with the Templars, Cullen getting to know them and sharing what would be expected of them. There would be mages, he warned them, and the Herald would not tolerate abuse, real or perceived. They were to be everything the Order was supposed to be: honorable, protecting the people _and_ the mages. If they had concerns, they should not hesitate to share with him or with Knight-Captain Rylen. Though there were a few who looked askance at some of his statements, most looked relieved to have structure, and all saluted when he was finished.

There was the anticipated discomfort when evening doses were passed around, the craving as strong as it ever was, yet he refrained. He thought of a little boy who liked swords, that looked up to him in a mad world. He thought of what he had done to those like that little boy’s mother, to those like that little boy. He couldn’t change the past, but he could be better in the future. He would, or he would die trying.


	6. In Hushed Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who had been cast down,  
> The demons who would be gods,  
> Began to whisper to men from their tombs within the earth.  
> And the men of Tevinter heard and raised altars  
> To the pretender-gods once more,  
> And in return were given, in hushed whispers,  
> The secrets of darkest magic.  
> \- Threnodies 5:11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters uploaded tonight! Make sure to go read the corrected chapter 5 if you haven't.

She turned toward the outside doors as they heard the dragon land, her eyes wide with… not fear, but something like. Trepidation. Sorrow. She stared at it, Dorian watching the emotions play across her face as he worked to return them to the proper time. He got the spell working just as she moved to rage, snarl transforming her face to something rather fearsome, at the sound of someone coming, the last of their companions having fallen. He didn’t have the time for this; they quite literally did _not_ have the time for this. Swallowing back a remark, he grabbed her and pulled her through the rift he’d managed to open with the amulet.

They landed, her still facing those doors with that look, back in the proper time. Quicker than he’d thought she would move, given how poorly she’d taken the news in the future, she spun to face Gereon.

“YOU!”

Dorian scrambled to stop her. “Now darling, he’s already admitted defeat.”

And he had. Magister Alexius was on the ground, a broken man after his near-success.

Before Lysandra could move or speak, another voice interrupted.

“When I granted you sanctuary, that did not extend to driving my uncle from his lands!”

Fiona’s simpering response was as pathetic as her apology in the future. “But where will we go?”

Scowl tempered, Lysandra marched over, not even glancing at Seeker Cassandra as she passed. “I have a solution for that.”

\---

The ride back to haven had been exhausting for most of their party. They’d elected to let the adult mages come on their own, and the king had graciously offered an armed escort to ensure they arrived whole. The children and tranquil, however, had come with her party at her insistence. There were depressingly few for how many were known to have been with the rebel mages until recently. Worse yet, none of the adults could account for the missing.

Lysandra knew. She had told him before they left, of the locked hut, the book and the skulls and the grotesque occularum she'd found posted in the hills. Frankly, it made his stomach twist. Necromancy was one thing; this was quite something else.

Neither mage would discuss what had happened in the few seconds they had disappeared, not really. Lysandra had spoken to the Seeker on only enough to send a preliminary report back to the Inquisition at Haven, though Dorian knew nothing of what was said between the women. Really, he was quite concerned for the Herald, and he wasn’t alone in that. Before their little time traveling adventure, he was certain he liked ‘Lady,’ as the Dwarf called her. The people around her trusted her and respected her and most importantly laughed with her, as he’d seen before. There was nothing but worry, now. She was singularly focused on getting back to Haven as quickly as possible.

Lysandra wearily slid off her mount, handing down the child riding with her to a waiting Sister. She handed her mount to the horsemaster with a quiet word, walking off before her party could react. Dorian watched as Cassandra spoke with those Sisters and soldiers gathered to get the dozen or so travelling with them settled. Varric had disappeared almost as soon as his feet had hit the ground, and Dorian was left somewhat at odds.

His mind made up, he walked toward the tents spread before the little hamlet, following where he’d seen the Herald go earlier. As confident as he was in his use to this Inquisition, he did need someone with authority to accept him, and the woman was his best chance. He wandered between the rows, ignoring the soldiers supping and staring at him, when the sound reached him.

“Luca!”

He remembered her asking about someone by that name when they’d encountered her spymaster, in that horrid red future. Her reaction at the time led him to believe it to be a lover, and he was dreadfully curious. Following the sound of the shout, he paused when he found the source to be the Commander’s tent. He frowned, something he worked hard to ensure he never did, with the sound of crying coming through the flaps left slightly open.

“Mama no cry! Da, fix!”

Moving through the opening, he once again paused, not entirely certain what he’d walked in on.

The Commander sighed where he knelt, shirtsleeves pushed up rather impressive arms, next to a washtub. “Pup…”

The small child cradled in Lysandra’s arms glared at the blond man. “Fix, Da!”

Lysandra hiccoughed a laugh, smothered as it was in the child’s curly hair. “I just missed you, sweeting. Only you can fix that.”

She smiled at the child before embracing him again as the Commander stood, looking conflicted. He fixed Dorian with a stern look, shooing the man outside before speaking quietly to the pair still on the ground. Lysandra spared him a glance, nodding, and moving to blow out the lantern as the flaps were closed firmly.

Finding himself face to face with the rather attractive Commander, he schooled his expression, showing only his concern for the woman.

“From Seeker Cassandra’s report, you disappeared with her.” At Dorian’s nod, the Commander led them both out of and away from the tents. “She did not say what happened to the two of you, and Lady Lysandra refused to issue a report.”

“My understanding was that she wished to brief you all in person. It was harder for her than for myself.” He paused a moment before just asking, “I take it the child is hers?”

“Yes.”

“And yours?” When no reply was forthcoming, Dorian allowed a small, flirtatious smile, before sighing and being serious again. “I would wait for her explanation; she has more…”

He trailed off as the object of their discussion found them.

“A word, Commander?” At the man’s hesitant nod, she turned reddened eyes to Dorian. “I’ve arranged a bed for you near Adan, our alchemist and acting healer.” It was her turn to be hesitant. “You… You _are_ staying?”

“Of course, my dear! The south is just so charmingly rustic, I love it to pieces.”

Some slight tension released from her shoulders. “Wonderful. There’s no-one I would rather be stuck in time with, present or future.” She managed a small smirk for him, one eagerly returned.

“Nor I. But let’s not plan on doing it again any time soon.”

Dorian watched with interest as the pair walked almost uncomfortably away. At least he knew with experiences like these, his time with the Inquisition would be anything but boring.

\---

“Hold still, pup!”

Luca continued to wriggle out of his hands, giggling in the tub.

“Luca…” Cullen growled, but tempered it with a small smile. He sat back, shirt soaked through in places, his arms and chin covered in soapy water. The boy was a menace, made worse by how cute he was. He was all dark curls and big, dark eyes, in a round face. Cullen had found he wasn’t quick to trust, sticking with his mother or with Varric, of all people. But he supposed that a talented liar like the dwarf could charm anyone, child or adult, given enough time.

Luca seemed fairly comfortable around the Seeker, as well, though he didn’t talk to her or approach her on his own. He didn’t shy away, either. He would watch her practice, or listen as Lady Lysandra spoke with her. It still confounded him that the child had not only approached him, but deliberately sought him out.

“Da?”

Cullen sighed and leaned forward to finish Luca’s bath. He’d still not managed to convince the child to call him anything else. The first time it had happened, Varric had stared at him in surprise before laughing long and loud. _”Oh, you’re dead if she hears him say that!”_ Grabbing the blanket and pulling the wet boy out of the tub onto it, he silently agreed with the dwarf.

Maker take him if Lady Lysandra ever found out.

“Okay, all dry? Let’s get you dressed then.”

He’d just finished tugging on the tiny shirt when Lady Lysandra came in.

“Mama!”

“Luca!” Lady Lysandra pulled the child to her. Their reunions were familiar territory for most of the camp by now; she refused to spend more time away from Haven than she had to, not that Cullen blamed her. He wouldn’t be comfortable leaving his child in the hands of someone who’d, if not actively participated in abusing him, had allowed it to happen.

He shifted positions, working to clean up the bath at the thought. Until he heard the crying. He looked over to see Lady Lysandra in distress. Whatever had happened in Redcliffe was bad.

“Mama no cry! Da, fix!”

Cullen sucked in a breath at that, frozen for a moment, when he noticed the Tevinter mage watching the reunion with an unidentifiable expression. He sighed, suddenly tired. “Pup…”

Luca turned and glared at him, and oh, if there had ever been any doubt in Cullen’s mind that this child was Lady Lysandra’s, there was none now. She’d worn an almost identical look the last time he’d seen her in Kirkwall. “Fix, Da!”

Cullen was saved by the hiccoughed laugh Lady Lysandra gave, her face buried in Luca’s damp curls. “I just missed you, sweeting. Only you can fix that.”

Cullen stood, eyeing the pair before looking at the still-lingering Tevinter. He shooed the man out of his tent before bending to speak to Lady Lysandra. “The bed is prepared for him; you weren’t expected back until tomorrow. You are welcome to stay. You will not be disturbed if you do.”

She looked at him briefly before nodding and standing, pulling Luca up into her arms. The child was already falling asleep, as Cullen had known he would after a bath, his hands flexing in his mother’s cloak and hair as he fought to stay awake. She blew out the lantern as Cullen joined the other man in the open air.

“From Seeker Cassandra’s report, you disappeared with her.” He motioned for the other man to walk with him. “She did not say what happened to the two of you, and Lady Lysandra refused to issue a report.” He kept his voice down, not needing to contribute further to the gossip mill running rampant.

“My understanding was that she wished to brief you all in person. It was harder for her than for myself.” The Tevinter hardly paused before asking. “I take it the child is hers?”

“Yes.”

“And yours?”

Cullen refused to answer that. He did not examine why the question bothered him, outside of the obvious, that it wasn’t anyone’s business. He also ignored the smile the mage was giving his non-answer. Eventually, the man turned serious again.

“I would wait for her explanation; she has more…”

Cullen waited while the mage trailed off, until he realized that he was not the one being looked at.

“A word, Commander?”

Cullen could only nod slowly. He was not looking forward to whatever she had to say. She spoke to the Tevinter, having apparently found him lodging, and inquiring as to his plans. Cullen was less than pleased to hear he’d be staying, but it was not up to him. Perhaps he could convince the others to get rid of him…

That was a problem for another day, he determined, as Lady Lysandra turned her attention back to him.

They walked slowly, wandering through the dark hamlet in what, to Cullen, was a rather uncomfortable silence. Then Lady Lysandra spoke, and he decided the silence wasn’t that uncomfortable, after all.

“How long has Luca been calling you ‘da’?”

His steps faltered, and she waited for him to recover. “A while. Before you left for Val Royeaux.”

He said a silent prayer that no one could see the flush creeping up his neck.

“I see.” He could not discern her feelings from her tone, her voice the same level quiet she’d used to pull him from the Tevinter’s company. “Tell me, Commander, would you do everything possible to protect him? Not,” she held out her left hand, focus gem glowing faintly green in her palm, before making a fist and dropping her arm back to her side, “because of this, but because of _him_? Would you care for him, love him, if I did not return?”

The moment of silence before he answered this time was heavy. He knew something had happened in Redcliffe, something that rattled her. He’d thought he wanted to know, that it was important, if it had rattled her so. Now he wasn’t as certain. He swallowed thickly. He had thought on it during his own mission, and there was only one answer he could give.

“Yes.”

Whatever Cullen was expecting her to do or say in response, it was not for her to lightly touch his arm and offer the briefest of smiles as her posture relaxed slightly. “I know. And… Thank you.”

The flush had reached his ears before she moved ahead and got Sister Leliana’s attention, the Seeker waiting with her. Together, they made their way into the Chantry and to the little room at the end of the hall, where Ambassador Montilyet was waiting for them by what Cullen had dubbed the ‘war table’.

“Thank you all for agreeing to meet so late, but it could not wait until tomorrow. I must tell you of what happened in Redcliffe.”

So she did, her description dovetailing with and expanding on what Seeker Pentaghast had already informed them of from the field. She spoke of a Tevinter cult, represented by the very Magister Alexius they’d gone to confront, but more, there was someone called the Elder One who led this Venatori, though details of him were vague enough to be useless. Knowing nothing was almost more knowledge than what she’d been able to learn of him from this twisted future she’d seen. The other things she’d seen and heard, of a demon army and assassinations were more actionable, if they kept eyes and ears out. Lady Lysandra suggested using the elf girl, Sera, and her contacts with the Friends of Red Jenny to get both word out and to watch for likely targets. Going straight to the Empress of Orlais seemed too direct, until the Seeker reminded them all that this Elder One’s first target had been the Divine, herself.

From there, the five of them set out strategies for moving forward. It was only as they worked back to sealing the Breach that Lady Lysandra called for a small break.

“Before I discuss the mages, there is another matter we must address.”

Looking at the others, Cullen was both reassured and not that none had any idea what else could possibly be important enough to talk about _tonight_. Looking back at Lady Lysandra, he had the passing thought that he must have been more tired than he thought, if she looked nervous. He had seen her hesitant, but it was wariness then. Not once in all the years he’d known her had she been uncertain, and yet that was the only word to come to mind as he waited for her to speak.

She took a breath and let it out slowly. “It surely hasn’t escaped any of your notice that there is… Speculation. About Luca. I hear the rumors and the whispers, even when they try not to share them in my presence.”

As she spoke, she gained her nerves, looking at each of them one by one. The Seeker, the Nightingale, the Ambassador all with varying degrees of concern and confusion. Finally, she looked at him.

“Commander Cullen is Luca’s father.”

He couldn’t look away. He recalled, then, their talk before the meeting, and he thought he understood. He knew it for the lie that it was. They’d never been intimate, and as far as he knew, neither had ever been tempted. He had the impression she didn’t care for Templars, and he _knew_ she didn’t care for his presence the night she fled Kirkwall, even if he might have protected her escape.

But she’d seen him at his worst, and she’d seen him arguably at his best. She’d seen him with her son, and instead of demanding he leave had _thanked_ him for spending time with the child. Had asked if Luca was safe with him, despite already knowing such from an experience they would all work to ensure didn’t occur. She wasn’t asking this time.

"Half of Haven already speculates, but I’m telling you now, because our next move is to try to seal the Breach. I’m working with Solas on the mechanics of how to do this, and plan to bring Dorian, that is, Altus Pavus, into the planning as well; his areas of study are unique enough that he may provide ideas we neither of us would normally consider. We don’t know yet how or if we can use the glove, nor what the consequences of it might be. I hope I need not remind you that channeling through myself to stabilize the Breach nearly killed the both of us. What we are attempting may succeed in that, and as always, my aim is to minimize the risk to Luca.

“He has had no say in any of this. He is my highest priority, always. That is why I am telling you all this. If I fall, sealing the Breach, or to a demon near a rift, or fall off my horse and crack my skull, it is Commander Cullen’s right and duty to care for Luca. Defer to him, in such an eventuality.”

The room was silent as Cullen looked around, noting the grim looks as they all realized what she was telling them. She did not expect to survive. Cullen was to take her place if she fell.

He prayed it did not come to that.


	7. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then the Maker said:  
> "To you, My second-born, I grant this gift:  
> In your heart shall burn  
> An unquenchable flame  
> All-consuming, and never satisfied.  
> From the Fade I crafted you,  
> And to the Fade you shall return  
> Each night in dreams  
> That you may always remember Me."  
> \- Threnodies 5:7
> 
>  
> 
> Darkness fell upon the Lonely One,  
> A night without moon or stars,  
> As the legion followed, like bloodhounds,  
> The trail of the rebels.  
> \- Shartan 9:9

Lysandra sat overlooking the bonfire, the people still revelling in the wake of their success. It didn’t seem real, not the dark sky lit only by the fires around Haven, and not the weakened glow of the channeling glove. With the Breach closed, the mark had been less active, something she thanked a Maker she hardly believed in for. She looked around, finding Luca in one of his favorite places: Commander Cullen’s arms.

The sight never failed to twist her stomach. She was glad that her son had found people he liked, people that he trusted, to watch him. She knew there were worse people in Haven he could cleave to. She knew the Commander would do everything he could. That didn’t stop the fear she felt every time she saw it, heard “Da” or “pup”. There were too many years of Templars taking children away from mage parents, too many years of _him_ standing behind Knight-Commander Meredith’s increasingly paranoid orders. Too many years of fears and scars and _everything_ to make her comfortable.

She hated him, still.

She hated him, and it was exhausting to fight herself as well as everything else she faced to protect her son.

She’d only dealt with him directly once, her last day in Kirkwall, and she’d never allowed herself to wonder just had happened to make Knight-Commander Meredith’s lap-dog slip his leash. She steadfastly refused to wonder at it now. What mattered now, is that they had sealed the Breach. Lysandra recited the Inquisition's goals under her breath. “We sealed the Breach. We will find out who was responsible.”

Her eyes drifted back to the figure of the Commander walking around, now checking with the guards, Luca still in his arms. She quashed the bit of jealousy that he could carry the three-year-old so easily when she no longer could, and reminded herself of her own goals. “I will get my son to safety. He will grow up loved and protected, safe with me. Safe from the Chantry, if I have to become a Witch of the Wilds to do it.”

Snow crunching under boots was her only warning before Seeker Cassandra sat beside her with a grunt. “You should be celebrating. We could not have done this without you.”

Lysandra gave her a small, if ironic, smile. “We both know that’s not true.” She flexed her gloved hand in meaning.

Seeker Cassandra hummed and looked at her from the corner of her eye, before looking back at the revelry below. “You are staying?”

Lysandra gave a startled little laugh. “Of course!” Lowering her voice, she continued, “We do not know who caused this, or why. Nor,” she found the Commander and Luca making their way back inside the gates of Haven, “do we know how all this has or will affect Luca.”

“Of course. I am… glad to hear it.” Seeker Cassandra blushed suddenly. “I do not mean-”

Lysandra chuckled, shaking her head. She had come to like the gruff woman, her bluntness much easier to handle than the fawning praise she often received. “I understand, Seeker.” Sobering, she looked again to see her son dragging the Commander towards the two of them. “You have a daunting task. I suspect the Inquisition’s goals extend beyond the Breach, if the Divine had issued a writ before the Conclave.”

Moving to her knees, she opened her arms as Luca let go and ran to her. She stood, stretching out her legs, and moved the tired child to her hip.

Seeker Cassandra stood as well. “You would not be wrong. I will leave you to your evening, Lady Lysandra.” Nodding at the Commander and Lysandra, she walked away.

Lysandra started to walk around him, intent on putting her son to bed even as the people celebrated around them, when the Commander took a breath and started to speak. Whatever he intended to say, however, was cut off by the cry of the guards on watch. As one, they ran to see what the outcry was.

\---

Haven was in utter chaos. She’d lost track of how many injuries she’d seen. She hadn’t seen Luca since she passed him to Lady Josephine, unwilling to leave him but unable to stand by while they were attacked. Lysandra adjusted Seggrit’s arm over her shoulders, dragging him closer to the Chantry. He was the last survivor she’d found, and she needed a moment to recuperate from the extended time she’d spent casting, working alongside Seeker Cassandra, Varric, and Sera.

She’d sent Solas, Warden Blackwall, and Dorian to help where they could, and prayed that they had made it back to safety after the blasted _dragon_ , of all things, had decided to play with them.

It just had to have been Raleigh. She choked back another sob at the reversal of roles, Raleigh her enemy and Cullen the trusted one.

The Chantry doors were just within reach, open just enough to allow their entry, before Commander Cullen slammed it shut behind her. She watched his hand clench with an aborted motion, unsure of what the look he shot her was, and she sighed, tired and angry and terrified and relieved to be in shelter, however little protection it provided.

Those who hadn’t fallen to the red lyrium-infected Templars or the dragon’s fire were packed in the small space. She scanned the faces there, wanting nothing more than to hold Luca, but Commander Cullen touched her arm and led her to the side. Chancellor Roderick was in a bad way, leaning heavily on the wall as he slumped on the bench. The strange boy that had come to warn them was beside him, speaking softly. Most of what he said made little sense, tired and emotionally strained as she was, but she understood what was being said. It was only as Commander Cullen nodded and pulled her away that everything felt real. Horribly, terribly real.

“If we are to have any hope...”

Looking at him, his eyes held the same bleak realization that she felt. Someone had to go out there and sacrifice themself if they were to have time enough to escape, and she was the best distraction. The only one that would work was her. _She_ was the one this Elder One wanted, at least until he learned she wasn’t truly the one with the mark, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen.

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Lysandra…”

She opened her eyes to find him looking so lost, his hand poised to touch her. He dropped it, and looked away, toward what she realized was Lady Josephine coming towards them with a sobbing Luca.

Lysandra made her decision and turned away from them, nodding once to the Commander before she walked away. “Take good care of him, Cullen.”

She gathered Cassandra and Dorian and Blackwall out of the group that tried to stop her from leaving. She left the Chantry to the sounds of despair and pain and misery, and her son screaming, “Mama! No Da, want Mama! MAMA!”

Outside, they fought through more of the corrupted Templars, to the last of the trebuchets. Her party, people she was coming to depend on, people she _liked_ , fought until they heard the beating of wings and she screamed for them to go, to join the others in the Chantry as they made their escape through the path Chancellor Roderick had remembered.

Dorian tried to argue, bless him, but she insisted. She would not let him die with her. Alone, she faced this Elder One, determined to stop him however she had to. He wanted the mark. She wouldn’t give it to him.

\---

She shivered as awareness returned, and with it, cold. She took stock, moving her fingers and her toes, her hands and feet, stifling a groan as she worked to move her arms and legs. She managed to roll to her side, cursing as quietly as she could in the damp dark, and made her way upright.

The world seemed to spin, and her ribs ached, but if this was the worst she’d received from her being thrown, she was better off than she’d expected. She groped for a wall, support, anything to lean on, and found only damp, slick ice.

“Shit.”

Taking a deep breath, Lysandra brought her hands up, only then noticing the faint green glow from her left hand. She exhaled shakily, relief flooding her. “At least Luca’s al-”

Her breath hitched as she saw that the glow was not from the gem focus embedded in her channelling glove. The gem was nowhere to be seen, along with most of the palm of her glove. Shredded leather cuffed at her wrist and around her fingers was all that remained of her hard work, her palm itself the source of what had once been an almost comforting light.

“No!” She gasped, her other hand flying to her mouth. “How… No. Not now, Lysandra. Panic later, after you’ve found them.”

Thus resolved, she looked once more around the cavern she was in, finding a path forward. “He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe.”

She repeated it as she made her way forward, not stopping until pain lanced up her left arm.

“Ah!”

Her scream echoed and blended with the noises from ahead, the voices she had not noticed pausing momentarily before coming louder. No, not louder, she realized, but _closer_. The mark - _Anchor_ , the Elder One, or Corypheus, had called it - pulsed again, and Lysandra grit her teeth, gaining her feet once more.

There, just ahead, was the source of the sounds.

“Despair demons. How fitting.” She looked for a rift or other source, but found none. Frowning, she tried to think.

The glove had reacted to rifts in the same manner Luca’s hand had the day she’d used him to stabilize the Breach. She’d often found her arms being pulled toward the rifts, but never once had it reacted to demons wandering freely. Her arm jerked again as more spasms of pain radiated from the mark.

Gritting her teeth in an effort to focus, she muttered, “Maker take it, let’s see what you want, shall we?” With that, she raised her arm toward the demons, groaning as the mark connected with the atmosphere above them. Moments later she panted for breath, her arm hanging limply beside her as she stared blearily at the spot where the demons had been. There was nothing. No signs of anyone or anything but herself remained.

Closing her eyes, Lysandra let herself recover only a moment before she shivered, and steeled her determination once more.

“He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe.”

She made her way outside, following the whistling of the wind against the mouth of the cave, and into blinding whiteness as a blizzard raged around her. At least her arm had stopped hurting.

Between sheets of ice and snow, she caught a glimpse of orange. Fire, or something, was glowing in the distance, though it was notably dimmer by her second look. She went for it.

The broken, burned out wagon was already sheeting over with ice by the time she waded through the wind and drifts to it, and looking desperately for another sign or bit of wreckage, anything to indicate which way she should go, she found nothing but a growing dark, the white of the mountains the only faint light.

“He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe.”

She did not know what direction she walked. She knew not if she was even moving in a direction, or shuffling in some horrid frozen loop. “Like a Circle.” She hiccoughed a laugh that could also be called a cry, as her legs and arms grew ever colder. “I fucking hate Circles.”

Plodding onward, her lips and throat were sore from the weather, but she remembered. _He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe._

Trees were the most welcome sight she’d seen since the wreckage that first drew her out of the caverns. The trees were meandering, but there was a path leading slightly further uphill. So she followed, and she remembered.

_He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe._

She found several cold fire pits, knowing that she couldn’t know if they were the survivors’ or not, couldn’t know if they were from the Elder One’s troops or not. If they were the Co… If they were Cullen’s, or _Raleigh’s._

_He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe._

It was harder to move, the cold settled into her joints. The last fire had still been warm.

_He’s safe. There is no room for doubt. The Commander will not fail him. Remember Redcliffe. He’s safe._

She wasn’t cold anymore. She didn’t shiver, but neither could she take another step. She struggled, unwilling to give up, not just yet.

“He’s sa-” She forced the words out. “He’s safe. Th-there is no roo-oom f-for dou-oubt. The…”

The wind had stopped long ago, but she heard voices as though it was starting again. Shouts and sounds that made no sense as she fell.

“The Co-omman...der…”

She’d cry if she could, her eyes as frozen as the rest of her. How strange that he would be the one she’d think of as she died? She supposed, as she succumbed to the Fade, that it wasn’t strange at all. Everything she’d done since she discovered her pregnancy was for Luca. The Conclave was for him, so he could live a freer life than she had. Sealing the Breach, every excursion from Haven that separated her from her son… Walking away and leaving him with a man that would have killed her had she not left Kirkwall.

No, she knew he wouldn’t have, because he hadn’t. He’d let her go, saved her as he saved her - his, now - son. Everything was for Luca, so why wouldn’t she imagine the Commander as she died? Imagine him reaching for her as he had in Haven’s Chantry, looking wrecked at the loss of her, speaking her name. She could just imagine the warmth of him, of his hands, of the safety he represented. It was a far more pleasant death than she’d expected.

\---

When he first took it, he rationalized it as covering for his lapse in judgement. He needn’t have worried, because the world ended only a few days later, and the Gallows had been in enough chaos before everything that her absence had not registered yet. So it had been shoved into his drawers, where it remained buried and forgotten for years. He’d rediscovered it when preparing to leave Kirkwall, and had never been able to justify why he hadn’t destroyed it then, or buried it back in the vault.

Perhaps he had found comfort in its continued warmth, the knowledge that she yet lived. He had done much that he came to regret in Kirkwall, the things he had ignored, or rationalized away, and worse, the things he had done and allowed with full knowledge. The demons had plenty of faces to choose from when tormenting him, these days. The idea that she was safe, somewhere, that there was someone he had not failed…

He flinched at the renewed warmth around him, his hands tightening reflexively.

“Give him here.”

Cullen spared a quick glance at the mage, obscured as it was by his… his son’s curls, before continuing his vigil over the mountain path they had so recently fled down. “No, thank you, Altus Pavus.”

The other man sighed, and Cullen could hear him shifting. “Dorian, please, and I said give him here. Your arm must be frozen in that position by now.”

Cullen’s hand tightened around the phylactery, frayed nerves and the discomfort of lack of sleep combined with the cold and hunger to boil over dangerously. “I said, no.” His voice was a harsh whisper. Even in his state, he would not risk waking the child who had so recently found his own slumber.

His jaw clenched as Dorian stepped in front of him, eyes cold and face devoid of the mocking smile he had worn almost their entire acquaintance, short though it had been. "You've not slept for two days, at the very least. As admirable as your paternal instincts are, they do Luca no good if you collapse. Honestly, I've had pockets shallower than the bags under your eyes, lovely as they are."

Dorian swallowed, looking over the same path Cullen had been watching. "I liked her. She had bite, and was probably the only person for whom ignoring me was the less polite practice. It is for her sake alone that I am telling you to get some rest. She wouldn't trust you to hold a missive, never mind her son." He held out his arms, reaching for Luca again, and this time, Cullen let him take him.

"She's not dead."

"It's been two days, Commander, and we've lost several despite myself and the other mages doing everything we can to stave off the cold. She was buried in the snow, alone, with no supply of lyrium to-"

Cullen's arms ached, and for the first time, he truly felt cold. "No. I mean," slowly, so very slowly, he held his hand out and forced the fingers to open, "she's not dead."

Dorian shifted his hold on Luca, taking the phylactery and looking confused. "What-"

"Keep that close, and wake me if it changes."

"Changes how?"

"Just... changes." Cullen had neither the wits nor the patience to explain at the moment, and Dorian must have been able to tell, as he simply slipped it around his neck and nodded, turning to keep watch over the way they came.

Cullen did not remember finding some bedding and collapsing, nor did he know how long he was out before Dorian was shaking him awake. A cramp in his arm was the only thing keeping him from pulling his sword as he startled, giving him enough time to gather his wits and take in the look on Dorian’s face.

Pinched. Almost frightened, and not of Cullen.

“It’s started to go cold.”

Quickly as he could, Cullen stood and took the phylactery, heart hammering in his chest as he confirmed that yes, it had cooled significantly, but it pulsed. Flashes of heat, not unlike the ones he dealt with during the worst parts of his withdrawal accompanied each beat, though they had slowed even as he held it in his hand. Refusing to look away from it until he knew where to go, he called for the Seeker, and ran.

The pulses slowed and sped, with no rhyme or reason that he could discern. Still, he followed the pull, across the camp, past where he’d stood watch, down the hill they’d climbed such a short time ago. His stomach dropped when even the warm pulses were cool in his hand, but he dared not give up. Scanning the mountainside, he would have overlooked her if not for the pull of the phylactery urging him toward the dark shape in the snow.

He reached her just in time to see her fall, hear his title on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Another chapter uploaded!
> 
> We're getting into some heavier things, story-wise, as well as starting to see some romance, maybe? Certainly some more hints of their history. ;) I have the next two chapters finished, though I'm trying to stay ahead instead of just posting them. Y'all have both Varric and Luca as focus coming, and those chapters took a turn, lemme tell you. Also, if you're ever thinking of trying to write mimicking a three-year-old's thoughts? I recommend NOT. It was an interesting experience.
> 
> I'm playing a little fast and loose with Samson's timeline, here. I said in an earlier chapter that Lysandra had been in Kirkwall for about three years before Anders did his thing, and in another chapter mention that she had known Samson while at the Gallows. Obviously, this couldn't be true, because Samson is already begging on the streets when Hawke first meets him about a year after arriving in Kirkwall, themself. But honestly? It's my story, and I want it this way, so Samson didn't get kicked out until much later. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> The remarkable @rprambles has been letting me bounce ideas off them, and looked over some stuff for characterization, and I cannot thank them enough. I also recommend reading their fics featuring their Inquisitor Olek and his boi Dorian (because, honestly, who DOESN'T love Dorian?) for feels and good times.


	8. Look Upon the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I covered my face, fearful,  
> But the Lady took my hands from my eyes,  
> Saying, "Remember the fire. You must pass  
> Through it alone to be forged anew.  
> Look! Look upon the Light so you  
> May lead others here through the darkness,  
> Blade of the Faith!"  
> \- Exaltations 1:10

Varric had many regrets in his life, almost as many as there were people telling him that he wasn’t to blame for all the shit gone wrong around him. Watching a mother be separated from her kid, cornered into working for the people keeping them apart, and doing nothing? Just one more drop in the well of _shit Varric Tethras has done wrong_. Watching that mother die while he stood behind her like an absolute idiot? That well was finally spilling over. That she hadn’t died, and in fact reappeared mere moments later, that was just excuses. He could have done something, and maybe if he had, she wouldn’t have been in that position to begin with.

So he’d written a letter the moment he got back to Haven, seven children and four tranquil in tow. Yeah, he felt the weight of the unknown number of tranquil who weren’t there, because fuck, maybe he could have prevented that, too.

Haven falling was the last drop, a hammer to the stone of that well of regret, and it just flooded out, drowning him in his every mistake, each one pulling him further and further under. He wondered if this was how Hawke felt, wading through regret after regret, wondering which one was the biggest.

But Lady walked the yard in Skyhold, regained her health, held her son. She talked with Curly, and there was something there. He hadn’t believed it at first when he heard that Cullen was the kid’s dad, but seeing them now? He almost did.

So he wrote another letter, and got one back. He tried to talk to Lady, let her know what he’d done. To warn her? Prepare her? To be absolved of his multitude of sins? The reason didn’t matter, not in the long run. Not least because she was busy running everywhere in the Maker-foresaken castle, doing everything for everyone, just as she had been for months before she’d died and died again. But then, weeks after they’d arrived, with the whole place looking a lot less likely to fall apart underneath them, she fixed a smile on her face, hid the panic in her eyes, and asked him to come with her to go check out some mercs.

So he went, him and Blackwall and Sparkler, and he took the time to learn about the others. Blackwall was a shit liar, and Varric knew shit liars. Still, wasn’t his place to question the man, so he dubbed him Hero and moved on. Sparkler had razor wit, steel spine, and the most outlandish manners. Best of all, he didn’t tread all over Lady’s silences, and didn’t treat her like an ignorant child over her own fucking experiences, like Chuckles had a habit of doing.

Finally, a week or so out of Skyhold, Varric finally got to tell her about the letter. Their turns on watch overlapped a little, so he made the most of it. “I wrote to Hawke when we got back from Redcliffe.”

Lady had looked at him, too tired to do more than blink. He’d have to do something about that, maybe get the Seeker to stop sending the poor woman away from her kid so much. “The same Hawke Cassandra wanted to know the whereabouts of?”

Varric had looked out past the campfire, into the darkness. Both moons were out, though neither had so much as a quarter showing. “Yeah, one and the same. Didn’t have time to hear back before it all went to shit, but I sent another one after we got to Skyhold.”

“Varric, why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t even know. I heard back. She’ll probably be there before we are.”

“Is this going to be a problem? I remember her from Kirkwall; she liked Cullen about as much as I did.”

“Cullen, now, is it?” He tried to grin, though she stood before he fully turned her way.

“Yes, Varric, that is his name. Problem or no?”

“I don’t think so. Not exactly a social call. She has some insight on Corypheus I think you need to hear.”

Lysandra sighed behind him. “They say never meet your heroes for a reason.” He heard the tent flap move and a quiet, “Goodnight, Varric,” before it was just him and the night. He still didn’t know if that was going to be another of his regrets.

Seeing the Waking Sea was _definitely_ one of his regrets, though. Lady had laughed mockingly when he’d said something about Kirkwall being across there, and offered to give him a head start on the swim back if he missed it so much. He was too busy trying not to be seasick from the memory of his last trip across it to do much more than carefully pick his way down the hill their last camp had been on. And then he’d seen the Qunari, and sworn.

He’d been joined by Lady and Sparkler both, and just as vehemently. But the big guy was fighting alongside some elves, humans, and even a dwarf, against some obviously Tevinter assholes, and it wasn’t hard to guess which the mercenaries were. So, Hero charged in and started stabbing, while he and the others took positions across the hill to shoot or fry or freeze, or for one memorable moment, reanimate a corpse and fight the Venatori with the body of their own fallen comrade. Yeah, Sparkler had flair, and Varric could appreciate that.

The dust had settled, one of the mercs recognized Lady and helped her down the hill, over all the bodies, and over to the Qunari. Varric couldn’t see her face from where he was, but he recognized the stiffness in her posture. Still, the Qunari looked her over, glanced back to him and Sparkler and at Hero, and grinned while Lady spoke, then moved them further down the beach. If no one else was going to have Lady’s back in this, he would. Varric had just gotten close enough to hear them when he asked about the Ben-Hassrath, and he couldn’t keep quiet.

“Spies. They’re spies, and liars. Lady, this can’t be worth it, you remember the shit-”

Her hand had found his shoulder, and squeezed. “Yes, Varric, I remember. The Iron Bull, this is Varric. Varric, the Iron Bull. He was just telling me how he’s part of this group, I assume?”

“Yeah, not gonna sugar-coat it, the Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic like that, could be bad for everybody. I’ve been ordered to get in the Inquisition, get close to those in charge, and report back. Gotta say, though, you don’t look like what I expected.”

“And what were you expecting, the Iron Bull?”

“Well, for one, someone not wearing a dress. But I guess it takes all types, right?”

Varric was not expecting Lady to laugh at that, but she did, her posture relaxing just a touch. “Varric?”

He looked up at her, surprised she was asking. “At least he’s not lying about his reasons?” he asked, and had to hide a wince, recalling their conversation from the other night, but she nodded, giving him another squeeze. “Might want to check with Sparkler, though.”

Lysandra looked back up the hill, where Dorian was standing, his staff still in his hand. “Yes, I should.” Turning back to the Iron Bull, she said, “I don’t actually have the authority to tell you yes or no. That hasn’t stopped me before, and it won’t stop me this time, either.” She smiled faintly, though her eyes were serious. “I’m going to go ask my other friend if he’s comfortable with you joining, and I’ll let you know. In the meantime, it seems your crew is ready to celebrate.”

With that, she turned and picked her way across the beach and back to Sparkler, leaving Varric with the Qunari spy.

“What does she mean, she doesn’t have the authority? That’s the Herald of Andraste, right?”

Varric sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, Tiny, that’s her. Last time she said someone was in, she got yelled at by the Seeker who dragged both our sorry asses into this mess. You don’t have a problem with mages, do you? ‘Cause we’ve got a lot of them, where we’re going.” With that, he made his way to Hero, who was drinking at the insistence of the mercs. They didn’t stay long, Lady talking with the Scout, Harding, to organise some parties to deal with a handful of problems, helpfully assigning the Chargers their first job for the Inquisition so she didn’t have to do it herself. There were some rifts in the area, though, and so the four of them gamely trekked over the cliffs and beach, closing those they could get to.

They also found some Inquisition troops murdered in a cabin, and a note about the group responsible, which ended with another group of mercs pledging themselves to Lady.

“You know they’re not going to appreciate that, Lady.”

“Yes, well, are you going to tell them?” She shrugged carelessly over her bowl that night at camp. “An escape plan never went amiss, Varric. They could at least buy me time to get away with Luca.”

He frowned at her, concerned. “Are you serious?”

She sighed. “No, I suppose I’m not. I couldn’t do that to him, not after everything.”

She didn’t specify which _him_ she was talking about, and he didn’t ask. Whatever there was between her and Curly was none of his business. Still, he worried.

The trip back to Skyhold was quiet, though the closer they got, the more animated Lysandra became. The day they could push the rest of the way there was the most energetic they’d had since leaving the coast, and it was a relief to pass his mount off to a stableboy. He didn’t allow himself to spend much time watching the runt and his mom reunite, just a ruffle of Luca’s curls as he made his way to his favorite point in the whole castle.

He wasn’t surprised to find Marian Hawke waiting for him.

\---

“No. If she was interested in actually helping us, she could have come to us by now. I’m not going all the way to the Ghislain Estate, just so the former Court Enchanter can act important!”

“Madame de Fer has many contacts which could help us. It is not simply a party-”

“I said no. She has the time to send a second invitation, implying that we simply _lost_ the last instead of having real issues to take care of, such as rifts and demons attacking people and, oh yes, a bloody Tevinter Magister manipulating _time_! She had the time to come to us, since we clearly could not come to her. Really? Josephine, I have known people like the First Enchanter my entire life. She wants the power of association. If she is in good faith, she should show it!”

“Lysandra, you know very well that is not how the Game is played.”

“I will draft the response, myself. But there is no reason for me to go so far. Our response is part of the Game, as well. I have Luca, I have responsibilities here, and I am not going to run across Thedas playing messenger!”

He watched as she left the Ambassador in the hall, his shadow quiet on the balcony beside him. They watched as she strode out into the yard and found the runt standing on an overturned barrel beside Curly. They watched as the two spoke, and the child carefully climbed to his mother, how she absentmindedly picked him up and adjusted him on her hip.

“You said Cullen is the kid’s dad?”

“That’s what they’re saying. Never said I believed it.

“And she’s a mage. From Kirkwall. How old is this kid?”

“Eh, three, maybe?”

“Nope. No way. You sure they’re right about Corypheus, then?”

Varric sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure. Saw him myself.” He turned to face his friend, the closest thing he had to family, anymore. “That kid isn’t proof that they’re lying. That asshole is still out there, planning on making a bigger mess than he already has. You don’t have to do anything but talk with her.”

It was a lie, if a nice one, and they both knew it.


End file.
